Hand Signals
by ElaineRadley
Summary: A simple gesture can sometimes be so much more. Lame description but that's all I've got at the moment.
1. Chapter 1

_**This little piece is an experiment. Not my best work but I'm going to see where it goes if y'all are interested. Takes place just after "Funhouse." Oh, and I'm a little bit tipsy so if I screwed up, blame it on slight inebriation. ;)**_

* * *

Cal slowed on approach, studying her from the corner of his eye. In that briefest of moments, she tucked her chestnut hair behind one ear and pressed her lips into a single line. Mild irritation flickered.

He figured it was probably his fault. Somewhere along the line he'd forgotten to dot an "I" or cross a "t."

But that didn't matter. Not really at least. Other issues folded over him thanks to his inadvertent walk on the wild side. Usually his wild side walks were planned, purposeful, and he knew what to expect. Not this time though. His inhibitions had foundered even more than usual, sending him spiraling into new territory and revealing more than he'd ever intended.

_"You can do anything you set your mind to." _

_ "Oh yeah?" _

He'd stepped into her space and inhaled her sweet aroma and Gillian's hands had flown up to keep the distance. The motion had been automatic: a throwback to when she was married. It was something she was so used to doing that it had become second nature.

At the time, ergot had him floating somewhere around Mercury, but after he'd come down, the scene kept presenting itself to him in a constant loop behind his eyes.

His blatant pass.

Her ingrained response.

But there was something else. Something his drug-addled state didn't catch at the time, but his memory had since honed. At least he hoped that was the case and he wasn't fooling himself into creating something that never happened.

Her mouth had popped open in surprise at his sudden movement, lips glistening, soft and inviting, urging him to meld his with them in that moment. He thought her eyes had darkened just a tiny bit at his approach but now he couldn't decide if it had really happened or if he just saw what he wanted to see.

Shit.

Cal glanced down at his watch. The day was waning. Soon the staff would disperse and leave them alone to work in the soft amber of desk lamps.

He returned to his office to stew over his indecision.

* * *

Numbers were dancing around in her vision when she pushed away from the computer.

Enough already. Tomorrow was another day.

Gillian glanced up expecting Cal to be hovering outside her door as he'd done earlier but he was nowhere to be seen. A fleeting sense of disappointment skirted along and she allowed it to keep going, choosing not to stop and analyze it.

She powered down, got up and attempted to stretch out all the kinks which had taken up residence in her neck and shoulders. It didn't work. What she needed was a massage but would settle for a hot bath and a glass of Chardonnay.

As was customary, upon leaving her office, she turned left toward Cal's office, instead of right toward the elevators.

His desk lamp was on but the chair was empty. Light glowed from beneath the closed door of the library, so after a brief hesitation, she wandered over and knocked softly.

"Cal, I'm heading out."

"It's open, luv."

She slid the pocket door aside. "Just wanted to say good-"

He stood just off the entrance. Heart stammering, her hands went up to keep the distance.

Tilting his head, he regarded her for several long moments. "Why do you do that?"

She blinked, face tingling and warm. "Do what?"

"That." He flopped his hand between the two of hers.

Frowning, her gaze dropped. She'd pushed her palms outward, fingers stretched upright. It was a defensive gesture, as if Cal intended to harm her and they both knew that would never be the case.

"I'm not sure." Perspiration prickled along her hairline.

"Are you afraid of me?"

"Of course not." She dropped her hands, meaning to smooth them over her skirt, but he caught one before it reached its destination. Cal cradled it to his chest and she could feel callouses balancing with softness.

His eyes were intent on her features, weighing, reading, judging. Everything was on display for a change and he missed nothing. "Are you sure?"

She took a step back but his hand still held hers, firm but gentle. "What are you doing Cal?"

"Testing the waters."

A nervous laugh bubbled from her. "What's going on, _really_?" She had the feeling she knew and perhaps she _was_ afraid. Not of him, just of his sharp edges.

His thumb brushed the back of her hand bringing a tingle of warmth and gooseflesh.

"Please don't be afraid." His eyes beseeched, his expression vulnerable and everything began to fall into place.

Gillian swallowed. It was so loud and she wondered if he heard it. "I don't want to be."

"Then don't." His mouth twisted to the side. "How 'bout this? I'd like to take you to dinner tomorrow. Don't answer now. Just think about it."

"On a date."

He paused before nodding.

"What brought all this on?" The question could have been sarcastic but her voice remained soft, caught between a whisper and the huskiness of arousal. She would have willed it back inside if she could have.

To her relief, he didn't run with it despite her tone practically gift wrapping her desire for him. Up until now she'd done a close to perfect job of keeping it in check.

Cal's eyes remained vulnerable but his lip twitched. "I made a pass the other day."

Her brow furrowed. "You were high."

"Yeah, yeah, there's that, but I should apologize."

_Should_ apologize? Meaning he wasn't going to? In fairness, she'd brushed it off for what it was although, if she was going to be honest, she'd wanted him closer, but her automatic response was to block his advance with the very same defensive gesture. It went up without thought, unconscious, but powerful in its symbolism.

Not a line anymore. A wall. Her heart trembled against her ribcage at the realization. Is that what she wanted?

She cleared her throat, attempting more vocal strength. "There's nothing to apologize for."

His eyes flicked back and forth between hers, indecisive. "Yes and no."

"Why yes and no?"

"Yes, because I was pushy-"

"Yeah, like _that's_ never happened before." Laughter erupted around the edges and it felt good.

He continued beyond the light reprimand, a smile playing around his mouth. "No, because it was…honest. You said I could do anything I set my mind to…"

Oh boy. She now knew what he'd set his mind to and the proverbial ball was in her court.

"In the meantime, I know you meant to call it a night." He released her hand and the chill of the a/c rushed in to replace it. "So, let's get the hell outta here."


	2. Chapter 2

Cal stepped aside to allow her to go before him and then followed her through his office to the hallway. He remained close but didn't touch her. She could hear his soft breathing and imagined it was a little rushed. Excitement? Nervousness? Arousal? There was no way to know for sure unless she stopped to read him. His crisp cologne hung in the atmosphere and she knew his return scrutiny would turn up more than she'd be comfortable with at the moment.

It was _just_ dinner. Not any kind of big deal. They'd eaten together hundreds of times.

Who was she kidding? It would be different this time. Very different. A pleasant date often led to certain expectations. Not necessarily sex, but expectations that could involve her hands dropping the "stop" gesture and moving up and around him instead. It could involve aligning her body with his, knowing how well they fit, but unsure if the path wouldn't be a treacherous one. Exciting, yes, but ramifications could prove more than she'd want to handle.

He leaned past to hit the elevator button but still did not come in contact with her, not even the subtle brush of his jacket against the sleeve of her blouse. She sensed it was purposeful on his part. Cal was leaving everything in her court and that just was not _him_. Mister brash and impatient had done a complete turn-around.

Gillian wondered how much it was costing him on the inside. Was his heart thrashing underneath his cool exterior? Was he worried about her answer or did he anticipate one way or another?

"Weird, yeah?"

They stepped into the elevator and at once it seemed so much smaller. She could have sworn there was more space inside.

"A little."

He faced her, blinking at the blush she was trying to hide. Her skin warmed even more and she concentrated on their shimmering and warped reflection in the brushed steel of the elevator doors.

Cal said nothing but from the corner of her eye she saw the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth. It only lasted a moment, as if he just reminded himself that chemistry didn't always result in a green light. If it were as easy as that, they would have landed together the moment the signatures were dry on her divorce papers.

They rode the car down several floors in silence. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable but it wasn't as it should be either. Heaviness had settled around them but an underlying current pulsed within, giving it the spark of life and promise.

He walked her to her car, began to lean in, but pulled himself up short. She caught his scent again and almost closed her eyes to breathe it further in, stopping herself just in time.

"G'night darlin'." Yanking the door open, he waited until she was in before pushing it shut with a solid clunk. She rolled down the window to respond.

"Goodnight Cal." Gillian watched as he nodded without smiling and walked to his own car in that exaggerated swagger of his. Many people presumed it was arrogance fueling his unique style of movement. She knew differently.

The warmth in her heart competed with her logical side and that side was the one who threw up her instinctive roadblocks. _What a mess_. Her emotions and her head were locked in a power struggle and she feared for the aftermath. Every single time her heart had won, it had wound up in pieces. She wasn't sure if she could bring herself to allow it again. She'd managed to build her little safety box around her and even though Cal had been banging on the outside for years now, she'd successfully kept him out. Although difficult, it was still easier than letting him in and risking another disaster.

But God, his inhibitions had been circling the toilet the night he tried to press in for a kiss and there was no doubt he would have connected if her defenses hadn't come roaring up to intercept. Even high, he'd never push the point. He wasn't that kind of man.

No. He wasn't the kind of man who'd ever force himself on a woman. For all his faults, he was a good person. Brilliant, maddening, striving to do the right thing even if it consisted of the wrong way and sometimes so gentle and tender it made her ache and blink back tears. There was no doubt he was one of a kind and in his own way, he was making it clear that, if she'd have him, he'd be hers.

Hers, along with all his baggage and trouble-making tendencies. It was a package deal after all.

As she sat daydreaming, it occurred to her that he was sitting in his car waiting for her to leave first.

Startling, she gave him a half-wave before twisting the ignition and bringing the car to life with a roar.

It was going to be a long night. Wine and a bath might temper it, but her mind promised unrelenting thoughts into the wee hours.

* * *

"Is everything okay?" Emily curled next to him, can of Coke in hand.

"Yeah, luv. Why?" He'd been caught in his own whirlwind of thoughts and she'd startled him. Cal did his best to absorb it and not let her know.

She shrugged. "You just seem…I don't know, kind of distant, quiet and it's a little weird."

"I can't be contemplative once in a while?" He pulled his daughter close and kissed the top of her head. At one time it had smelled like baby shampoo, but not anymore. She was almost grown and would soon be gone. Not from his life, of course, but on to experience her own future. He'd always be there for her, but would be relegated to the sidelines instead of walking beside her. Cal felt a pang inside.

"Sure, but it usually means you're up to something."

"Would you believe me if I told you that that isn't the case?"

Emily tilted her head to look up at him, scrutinizing. "I suppose, but there's something up even if you're not plotting or planning."

His sigh was deep. The evening had been dense with the unspoken. He was on a whole new level and it was terrifying. Up to this point, his feelings had remained personal, buried so deep he was reluctant to take them out to analyze. He loved her. There was no dispute at all in that regard. The dispute lay in his ability to be what she needed. That was the tangle. He knew it and so did she, otherwise she wouldn't have the unconscious urge to push him away.

Emily was still waiting for response, probably an excuse or deflection.

He did neither and his own candor surprised him as soon as the words slipped from between his lips. "I asked Gill to dinner."

The girl frowned for a moment before realization widened her dark eyes. "Like…a date?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Oh my God, Dad!" She pushed away to see him unhindered, her grin bigger than what he'd think could fit on her small face. "That's awesome! When? And where are you going? What kind of flowers does she like? You have to do it right you know."

_Do it right?_ He didn't even know if _it_ was going to come to pass.

"Hold up, luv. I said I _asked._"

Her face dropped, disappointment chasing itself around her face, minute anger following behind. Sometimes he forgot how protective she was of him. "She said _no_?"

"She didn't say anythin' yet. I told her to think about it."

"Oh." Emily leaned back and sipped her soda. "But slow is good, right?"

Any slower and they'd be going in reverse. "Yeah, it's probably for the best."

"Do you think she'll say yes?" Her smile was twitching at the corners of her mouth again.

He wanted to say yeah, he thought so, but in all honesty, he wasn't sure. The heat had been crackling between them tonight, despite the lack of touch. Her flesh had been tinged pink, pupils dilated, mouth parted. She'd looked so beautiful and luscious that it took more strength than he thought he possessed not to run his fingers across her cheek and delve into her thick hair to bring her closer.

However, there _was_ one thing Cal was absolutely certain of. Despite Gillian's answer, nothing would ever be the same between them again.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hey all. Sorry for the long gap between chapters. Just pesky responsibilities getting in the way as is par for the course. I wrote this chapter today while I was, ahem, supposed to be working. Hope you enjoy! **_

* * *

Gillian slid between crisp sheets in a waft of sweetness, the fragrance of her bubble bath lingering. Not for the first, nor second time, her thoughts drifted to Cal. In fact, he'd barely left her thoughts since they'd parted earlier that evening.

What struck her the most was the atypical lack of arrogance he'd displayed. He'd been contemplative before it faded into uncertainty and that was something she didn't remember ever seeing. Nervous, as if they hadn't already known one another a decade. Unsure, as if terrified he'd take a misstep. If that were the case and she was fairly certain it was, it gave her clear indication of how much he wanted them to work, how much he wanted _her_.

Warmth prickled her skin when her mind took a sudden turn, involving him being under the sheets with her. It was unbidden and despite her embarrassment, not unwelcome.

But loneliness was not a reason to rush head first into a relationship with Cal. It would be a huge step with heavy consequences.

They'd been through so much over the years. Her attraction was immediate when they first met, despite both of them being married. To quote _Jerry Maguire_, he'd had her at "Hello," especially with that amazing accent, but it was something she'd forced herself to bury. It kept her safe. It kept them both safe. That had been the theory at least.

Two divorces later, she'd still kept her emotions guarded, but as of late, they'd been clawing their way to the surface. His protectiveness touched her, his jealousy amused and annoyed, his near-misses made her die a little inside. The image of Eric Matheson's gun pressed to Cal's temple still brought nightmares and they always ended to same horrifying way. She'd never shared that with him. Maybe she would someday.

Gillian shuddered, erotic warmth bleeding into a chill.

Despite the instant ache, she forced herself to contemplate the memory and how the situation had affected her. Cold. She'd felt cold inside. Paralyzed. Everything had formed into a tight knot inside. She couldn't pull breath around it even as tears streamed down her face. Helpless. Terrified.

She'd felt like she was going to die.

Gillian nestled further into her bedding, fisting her hands in the comforter and turned onto her side, curling into a ball.

Would she have felt any different if they'd been involved at the time?

Her stomach fluttered, anxiety and realization converging into an epiphany.

_Oh, wow._

It didn't matter whether she pushed him away or pulled him close. Cal already had her heart and that wasn't about to change.

* * *

Cal flipped over for what he was sure the twenty-second time, unable to quell the hornets in his head. He sheets and blanket were snarled around him, tightening further with every movement.

_Bollocks. _ Sleep was as elusive as Sasquatch tonight.

He wriggled free of his inadvertent bindings and padded downstairs for a beer and some insipid late night television. Maybe his persistent thoughts would loosen their hold just a little.

Why _would_ she agree to see him on a personal level?

He hadn't given her a great reason to be honest. Quite the contrary really. He'd been boorish, disrespectful and downright cruel at times. A right bastard, he was. 'Course, he'd just been trying to shove her away. No hand gestures required. But it didn't work. As much of a plonker as he was, she never left his side. It was amazing. She was amazing.

Didn't mean she'd agree to meet him half-way though.

If the roles were reversed, would _he_ want to cross that line? Probably not. He may as well have "T" for trouble pinned to him to ward off all decent human beings from the walking disaster at hand.

Flopping on the couch, he popped his beer and took a pull.

She cared about him, he knew that, but her automatic reaction to his proximity indicated so much more. It said: "I'll tolerate you as a business partner and perhaps, as a friend, but any closer and I'm out of here."

The gesture didn't just say that. It screamed it, complete with echoes.

His sip of beer dropped into his belly like a cannonball.

_Shit, shit, shit!_

Could he have blundered any worse?

Well, yeah, maybe if he'd tried to cop a feel, but that was about it.

Lips pushing together, he ran a hand through his already tousled hair, a heavy sigh resonating through his chest.

He'd asked her out on a _date_ date, the very action shouting his feelings from the rooftops.

It was going to be awkward from now on. She wouldn't be able to even look at him without knowing he wanted her above and beyond what would be considered appropriate.

The cannonball in his stomach turned sour and he placed the bottle of beer on the coffee table, its enticement gone. So much for quieting his mind.

If he backpedaled, she wouldn't buy it. The damage was done, no matter what he now did.

He was in for a penny, in for a pound though. Only thing he could do, at his point, was let her be the one to breech the subject and follow her lead no matter where it led them.

Even if it led them to a brick wall on a dead end street.

* * *

"You had to have been tempted."

They stepped off the elevator and passed the through the hall of photos.

"Not in the least."

Torres raised her brows, attempting to study her boss. He appeared to be telling the truth, but he could also be pulling a con as he was prone to do.

"Tempted by what?" Loker appeared and handed her a cup of coffee, eyes curious.

"We went out to see Mrs. Samuels and she was practically in Lightman's lap."

Loker's eyes brightened. "Attractive?"

"If you like the aging blonde look with lots of artificial ingredients." Ria smiled, reading her boss's sudden discomfort.

Cal grunted, but it shifted to a high, strangled sound when they passed Gillian's office. She was leaning against the doorjamb watching them.

He wondered how much she'd heard.

"Other than compromising the case, what stopped you?" Eli blathered on and Cal stifled the urge to smack him aside the head.

"Stopped you from what?" Gillian attempted to catch his eyes, but he dodged the contact.

"Apparently our rich widow Samuels was trying to get into Lightman's pants." Eli offered, always helpful.

"IF you two idiots are through." Cal flapped his hand between Loker and Torres. "I know you have work to do and unless you prize the idea of unemployment, I suggest you get on it."

Still avoiding Gill's gaze, he wheeled around and escaped to his office. Any flicker of hope he'd been holding on to for dinner of anything beyond was going down and the flames were explosive. It's not like he'd actually _done_ anything but with past indiscretions, sometimes guilt by association was enough.

Disappointment chased the energy from his body and he sagged against the internal wall of his office.

Torres and her big mouth, compounded by Loker and his even bigger mouth.

When the doorknob turned, it didn't surprise him, even as tension sliced through his innards.

"Cal?"

Her voice was soothing. Water for the parched soul. And it was strangely devoid of any irritation or even resignation. The only thing he heard was curiosity.

But it didn't matter. "Look darlin', maybe it would be best to forget about what I asked you. I mean, you have no reason to trust my sincerity with my track record and all. Don't get me wrong. I'd like things to, um, work, but-"

Gillian stepped into space, startling him with her sudden nearness and alluring scent. Heart surging, he shut up and gaped at her.

Cupping his cheeks in her soft hands, her eyes flitted all around his face. "Ria mentioned you switched seats when our new client got too handsy."

He blinked. "Um, well, yeah…"

"I have to say I'm quite impressed."

"Um…"

"So, Cal, where would you like to go for dinner?" Her fingers ghosted across his stubble and trailed down to his shoulders. With a coy smile, she stepped back. "Did you have somewhere in mind?"

He continued to stare, his jaw lax. "Really?"

"I was going to leave a little early today, so would you like to pick me up later? Around seven?"

"Seriously?" This was too good to be true. She had to be yanking his chain. But this was Gillian. She wouldn't do that.

"Yes, Cal, seriously." She twirled, perhaps putting some extra hip action into the movement, knowing his gaze would drop. She wasn't wrong. "Now we both have things to do. I'll see you tonight."

With that, she made a graceful exit and he continued to stare after her, wondering if he was going to wake up to a reality where she said no. He hoped to hell not.


	4. Chapter 4

A strong gust of wind whipped Cal's hair back and the distinct tang of threatening rain settled in his lungs.

The turmoil of the approaching storm echoed the upheaval inside as he strode up the footpath to take his best friend on a dinner date. A proper one. The knowledge she'd said yes still confounded him considering her body language often read the opposite. He figured caution was in order and he'd just take it one step at a time.

He'd barely had time to slouch before she pulled the door open to his knock.

Gillian looked and smelled amazing. Her fragrance puffed around him in tease and his gaze drank everything else in. She'd made a point to change and now wore the infamous little black dress. Low, offering a hint of cleavage, but not _too_ low, high in the leg to reveal a flash of thigh, but not too high. The end result was sexy and tempting, but not tawdry. Never tawdry. She was too classy for that.

Cal stared. Only when a flush of red rose in her cheeks, did he blink and take a step back. He ignored the flutters inside and put on his best cockeyed grin. "Hey darlin'."

Her answering smile sent his flutters into a whirlwind. "Hi, Cal."

"S'pose we should head out. Beat the rain and that." He waited while she locked up, before waving her ahead.

Cal enjoyed the slim line of her neck when the wind lifted her hair. Before it settled, he caught a glimpse of a tiny birthmark just beneath the hairline and filed it away for future reference and hopefully, exploration.

He opened the car door to seat her before shutting it with a low clunk and jogging around to the driver's side.

* * *

The ride was quiet and Cal kept feeling little bites of doubt and anxiety inside only to be flooded with awe when he'd steal a glance Gillian's way. It was an uneasy mix that played havoc with his heart, which already seemed to be thudding a little too fast.

_What the hell was this?_

_ It was bloody ridiculous, that's what it was._

Almost a decade of friendship and here he had the butterflies and bees of a teenager asking the head cheerleader to prom. It was pathetic.

"I'll admit this feels a little odd." A little tremor worked its way into her voice and Cal threw her another look.

"Any regrets?"

_Maybe he shouldn't ask that._

"Too early to say." The tremor remained, but it morphed with a smile as she teased.

"Oh, the pressure!" Cal griped, attempting good-natured despite the hoard of biting and stinging insects inside. He doubted if he pulled it off.

Gillian could feel the tension coming off him in ripples to match hers. It surprised and warmed her. He wanted this to work out and was terrified it wouldn't. She knew the feeling.

In the close quarters of the car, the spiciness of his aftershave engulfed her in a sensuous hug. Not only did he smell awesome, but he looked awesome too, having traded in his trademark polo and jeans for tailored slacks, a rich royal blue button up and sport jacket. He was even wearing a tie.

Cal was wearing _color_ just for her.

He caught her staring and the corner of his mouth ticked. Gillian braced herself for the inevitable.

"See anythin' you like darlin'?"

Face burning; she fought the urge to look away. "As a matter of fact, I do. You clean up quite nicely."

Cal turned his attention straight ahead without comment. Amused, she watched his ears tinge pink.

"Wow. Is the great Cal Lightman embarrassed?"

"Nonsense. Impossible."

A light rain began to mist the windshield and Cal clicked on the intermittent wipers. He adjusted the airflow as well, avoiding her appraisal.

Smirking, she looked away to give him a moment to recover. Uncomfortable Cal was a rarity. She couldn't remember the last time she saw it. Usually he was way too at ease in his own skin.

He exited the freeway into the bucolic greenery of Virginia and guided the car with the methodical appearance of someone remembering directions.

Gillian had no clue where the heck he was taking them, but her nerves buzzed with new excitement. The scenery was gorgeous as he wove through back country and a charming little town. Her jaw sagged when he reached their destination.

"Well, luv, I hear I'm lucky to have even gotten a reservation for this place." He cut the ignition and reached to unbuckle his seatbelt. "Guess we'll see if it's worth it."

She gaped. "Oh my God, Cal."

The restaurant was one of the top- rated ones in the D.C. area. Exclusive, delicious and _very _expensive. She wondered if he'd taken note of that before making the reservation.

The rain had begun to pick up and he grabbed his umbrella from the back seat before sprinting around the passenger side to help her out. His arm slid around her waist to bring her close and keep her dry. Her hesitation was brief, but long enough to see the hurt run through his features.

_Damnit. _ She really needed to work on breaking that impulse.

He took a half-step back and into the rain when she reached toward him. Her fingers caught his tie and gently pulled him beneath the umbrella with her. She smoothed the material of his tie and shirt against his chest, her sudden smile apologetic.

His lips twisted to the side and his arm found its way back around her waist, his touch soft.

They walked toward the restaurant as the rain fell harder around them.

The restaurant walked the balance between classy and cozy. Traditional white tablecloths were offset by warm walls, silk lampshades and fresh flowers. They were seated by one of the stone fireplaces, their table intimately placed, shielding them from the many other patrons.

"This is beautiful." Gillian kept her voice at a whisper, almost as if normal speech would break some kind of spell.

"Not bad."

They began to peruse the menu and Gillian couldn't help but stop and watch Cal's eyes widen at the prices. He recovered quickly and said nothing.

The first course selection brought to them were micro-baked potatoes with caviar and crème fraîche. Cal stared at his before returning his gaze to the waiter. "Someone went and shrunk my appetizer."

The man smiled, well-paid enough to get him a shot at sainthood by patience. "Enjoy sir. You won't be sorry."

Cal grunted, skeptical, but blinked when Gillian made a soft ooooing sound in the back of her throat. It was pure pleasure and he fought a wave of heat. If she kept doing that, he'd need to take his lap napkin with him when they left. Not a pleasant image.

"Um, good luv?"

"Unbelievable."

The following courses kept the ooooing from Gillian and the teeth-clenching from Cal coming. Citrus lobster salad, marinated squab, lamb carpaccio, and just before dessert could arrive, the lights went out. Heavy rain could be heard pummeling the roof and windows while murmurs of concern edged the darkness.

"Well, this is turnin' quite interestin'."

The only light flickered from the fireplace and its warm radiance showcased the creamy perfection of Gillian's skin and sent her hair into brilliant shades of mahogany.

Cal couldn't take his eyes away, tilting his head, a genuine smile playing around his mouth. "Don't remember if I told you how beautiful you look tonight."

He couldn't see the blush he knew must be there, but she dipped her chin down, eyes darting away and returning.

The waiter returned with a rueful smile. "Apologies. The generator should be up momentarily. In the meantime…" He set up two tapered candles and lit them with a practiced hand before slipping away.

Gillian studied Cal in shimmering and perpetual candlelight. It played upon the rugged lines of his face, accentuating his craggy, but handsome features. He'd had his hair cut shorter, almost spiky, on top and she really liked it. It added to his devil-may-care charm. Familiar warmth spread out in tendrils from the center of her belly and she shifted as it settled lower. When her defenses dropped, her emotions and attraction to him merged together in a tight knot.

"Okay, luv?" He leaned forward, the smile in his eyes shining with the glow of fire.

"Absolutely."

"Um, kinda romantic, yeah?"

"It is." She sipped her wine. They'd chosen a lovely merlot and it played well on the tip of her tongue. Her next thought was how well he'd play with the tip of her tongue. Clearing her throat, she put the glass back down, trying to remember how much wine she'd had.

Conversation had been smooth and relaxed as long as long they didn't think too much. It was only thoughts of what this evening symbolized that sent them into uncomfortable and unfamiliar territory.

The waiter appeared beside them and delivered dessert. It was a sampler of several, each a work of art. Tartlets, chocolate, cheesecake, a clever but expensive version of an ice cream sandwich and coffee for Cal.

She dove in with exuberance and a moan vibrated up from her diaphragm. "Oh my God Cal. You have to try this!"

"That's o-"

Gillian stopped him in mid-refusal as the fork that had touched her lips, pressed to his. There was no choice, but for him to accept the decadent offering. She couldn't help but smile at his startled expression. "See? Absolutely delicious!"

"Delicious." He licked his lips slowly, surprise morphing into hungry. His dark gaze dropped to her mouth before popping up again and not breaking contact.

The flush flowed up her chest and throat before coating her cheeks. A tiny prickle of perspiration dotted her hairline. _Holy smokes_. His expression made her feel like the next course of the meal. Of course she could be. One word and that's all it would take.

The lights sputtered back to life to disappointed low groans across the room.

Cal straightened, the sexy and intense stare broken by open amusement. "You're blushing Gill."

"Um…it's a little warm in here. That's all it is."

"Uh huh." He grinned his disarming, cockeyed grin. "Guess I should pay for this exorbitant meal before I think too hard on it…unless you wanted to enjoy another course…?"


	5. Chapter 5

Only in his wildest fantasies would he have dreamed they'd be naked together on their first official date. But then again, why not? The last eight years could technically be viewed as the longest session of foreplay _ever_.

He'd seen the flush of desire. The darkening of eyes. The glisten of perspiration. Oh yes, don't forget the lick lips. There'd been _several_ during dinner. Between those signals and the continuous rapture of pleasure she'd elicited at each and every course, it had taken every strand of self-control he had not to entice her under the table. Possible entice was too pretty a word. Now, beg, that was more like it as lust-filled as he'd found himself.

And now they were at her place.

The fact that they were both naked, but in separate rooms was incidental.

Of course, _she_ probably wasn't naked any longer. By this time she'd no doubt peeled the little black dress down and off and had replaced it with sweats and a t-shirt. But the damage had already been done. The image of a soaked Gillian Foster with her dress clinging to her every curve, crevice, and swell was forever etched in his mind. That might very well be his final image before kicking the bucket down the line when he was old and withered and he was okay with that.

He never thought he'd be thankful for a powerful gust of wind flipping his umbrella inside-out. Of course "thankful" wasn't anywhere near a strong enough word. Delighted maybe?

The soft knock at the bathroom door had him tensing despite his foray into all things sexual. Vulnerability was biting at him. He _was_ only wearing a towel after all. A pink one with tiny red roses at that.

"Cal? Um, I can, uh, take your clothes now and um, toss them in the dryer." Her usually smooth flow of words stopped and started like a faulty transmission. She seemed to be looking for traction in an awkward, but sexually charged situation.

Cal took a moment to double-check his towel before grabbing the bag of sodden clothing and pulling the door open.

Her eyes widened, complexion flaring into scarlet. Gillian's gaze dropped and swept across his torso before jumping back to his face. "Pink's a good color for you." Her attempt at levity came out strangled and he smirked.

"I look good in _a lot_ of things." Cal fought the urge to step forward, knowing her barriers would fly up in defense. They regarded one another for what seemed like hours, but in truth, was probably less than two minutes.

Gillian cleared her throat and reached for the bag still fisted in his hand. "Um, it might take a half an hour or so to get them dry."

"What should I do in the meantime?"

The scarlet, which had begun to fade to a pretty pink came back tenfold but her voice was strong and steady. "Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something. I might have a copy of Cosmo or Elle lying around her somewhere. Possibly even a Victoria's Secret catalogue."

Incredulous, Cal blinked, jaw sagging.

Gillian pulled the door closed, a little smile teasing at her lips.

XXXXXX

Leaning against the wooden barrier between them, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. In… out. In… out. In….out. When those simple words chanting in her head morphed into something less decidedly innocent, she counted instead. Forward and backward. When that didn't work, she contemplated sticking her head in the freezer.

For Pete's sake, this was ridiculous!

The heat in her face threatened to scorch her from the inside out despite the internal reprimand.

The attraction was almost animalistic in its nature. She'd felt it at dinner of course, but seeing him half-naked…

_Fully naked_, her id was sure to point out. _It could have been fully…naked_. One good yank on that towel…

She could swear her internal voice sounded smug. Damned id. The Superego must be on vacation or something.

_Oh. My. God._

_ I can't believe I said that to him_. It had just sort of leaked out. Even with the usual easy banter they'd shared before he'd started behaving like a jerk, she would never, ever, have said something like _that_. One heated dinner and she throws a masturbation innuendo as him. _What the hell had she been thinking? _

Nothing apparently. At least nothing in the realm of safety.

Crap.

Pulling in another deep breath, she pushed off and headed toward her laundry room, stride businesslike to mask the jelly within.

XXXXXX

Cal stared at the closed door for several long minutes trying to decide if he'd heard her correctly. Had she _really, truly_ said what he thought she'd said?

Holy. Shits. Ahoy. She _really_ had.

Funny thing about that is he'd never need the aid of a magazine again. Hell no. The aforementioned image of Gillian in a wet and clinging little black dress was all he'd ever need.

Cal stepped back and sat back down on the commode lid. He squeezed his eyes shut in concentration to push the memory away. After all, he didn't want to embarrass himself. Pride was something he had in abundance and part of it included a high level of self-control. Well, sexually speaking at least.

"Cal?"

"Yeah luv?" He wasn't sure how long he'd been ruminating on the precariousness of this particular situation, but he was fairly certain it hadn't been a half-hour.

"Um, did you need anything? I don't have any John Grisham or Thomas Harris but I might be able to find something that isn't _just_ romance."

Yah. Paranormal romance. Historical romance. Suspense-thriller romance. Sod it. Verbally, he had little self-control. "What happened to my magazine?"

Silence.

Oops.

"Just kiddin' darlin'. I'm fine. I can hang out and stare at your pastel flower wallpaper for a bit longer. If I get bored, I can always go through your drawers for anything incriminatin'."

He heard the deep sigh and hoped he hadn't imagined the slight vibration to it.

"Sorry I don't have anything for you to wear."

Cal wasn't sorry. The fact she'd thrown anything of Dave's into the rubbish or maybe even burned them atop a huge pyre was not only a win in his book, it was a cause for celebration. "It's s'okay luv. Guess I should have left something when I stayed over last."

He remembered it well, although his nerves had been fried to crispy critters that night. It had all been because of that little wanker Matheson. He wasn't accustomed to feeling that shaken and it just pissed him off all the more.

Only thing good he could say about it is how he and Gillian had talked deep into the evening, both vulnerable and raw because of that God-awful situation. Sometimes he still dreamed about it, except in his dreams, it wasn't _him_ under the gun. A cold blade of terror would always follow him from his subconscious and torment his conscious mind before he could get a firm grip and fling it away. Sometimes it worked, but sometimes it didn't.

Cal shuddered, a chill wafting over him, cooling the simmering beneath his skin. Fear peppered moisture at his hairline in sudden agitation. Damnit!

Somewhere on the other side of the house, he thought he heard the buzzer of the dryer.

That would be good. In light of his sudden shift, it would be best to go. Gillian didn't need to have his anxiety dumped on her. It wouldn't be fair.


End file.
